


13 reasons why.

by Alex_Murphy



Category: 4minute (Band), BLACKPINK (Band), Big Bang (Band), Mamamoo, Pentagon (Korea Band), TWICE (Band), TXT (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alcohol, BDSM, Detectives, Drugs, Enemies to Lovers, Escape, M/M, Pedophilia, Rape, Romance, Smoking, Soulmates, Teenagers, Undercover As Prostitute, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Murphy/pseuds/Alex_Murphy
Summary: South Korea, the end of the 70s. The famous singer and actress, who is at the peak of her popularity, was found this morning on a chair in the middle of a home pool with carved lungs.Here: Jimin is the owner of the brothel, Jennie and Lisa is a married couple, raising rich and married men for money, Taehyung - loves harder and younger ones, and Jungkook is 15 and he has a huge scar right above his heart./au, in which when your soulmate dies the world around you becomes black and white./
Relationships: Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Jung Wheein, Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Kim Namjoon | RM, Jennie Kim/Lalisa Manoban | Lisa, Jennie Kim/Park Jimin (BTS), Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook/Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Hyojong | E'Dawn/Kim Hyuna, Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin, Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul, Lalisa Manoban | Lisa/Park Jimin (BTS), Minatozaki Sana/Park Jimin (BTS)
Kudos: 2





	13 reasons why.

Hyuna was beautiful. From the ends of highlighted hair to a deep whirlpool covered with a veil of passion of the eyes. Perhaps for this he fell in love with her. For burning a huge bonfire passion and desire to be heard.

She was always like that. Strange, not like everyone else. She was a huge stain of red paint on an expensive canvas of stately and obedient people. She never fit into the framework, but only parted them stronger. She was not afraid to say something superfluous, was not afraid to do something wrong. She was never afraid of mistakes, and met every failure with a wide smile on her lips.

« _What is the point of being like everyone else when you know that in the end you will die anyway? What is the point of obeying others and hiding all your desires under a long wedge skirt, if in the end you die anyway? What is the point of living someone else's life, hiding yourself in the present, if you die later, and not someone else's life?_ " She shouted into the microphone, pulling off her blouse and exposing her torso " _If the guys can, why not me?_ ".

She was not ashamed of her behavior and her thoughts, saying what worries her, and not others. " _Today is bad weather_ " another will say, " _today I look like shit, so I will fall apart in bed with a bowl of ice cream and will cry, watching a stupid movie_ " she will say.

Although she was a big red spot, she was as inconspicuous and ordinary as all those hundreds of millions of other people on the streets.

She kept too many secrets for such a small man. She kept too many problems.

In her small twenty-three, her thin bones were surrounded by a thick story. Thin bones hid wide knitted sweaters from lilac threads, the same as the flowers on her body, the same as the blood on her face, when she smiles broadly at her mistakes and tomatoes at her feet.

Idon remembers every moment: from his first meeting, already lost in the abyss of fear and duty, his eyes with her eyes shining with blue flame, to trembling thin fingers wrapping around his neck like a lifebuoy in an endless sea, and a quiet, squeaky « _yes_ » on an ear.

Idon went through a lot over these damned six years, but now he is finally tearing the finishing tape with his hands, falling into the arms of his friends, hugging him in his strong arms and clinging to his neck a gold medal with a loud and at the same time quiet « _yes_ ».

Hyuna may not be the best person in the world, but she is the one who will never break under the weight of this damn life, the one who will bear the whole world on her fragile shoulders, receiving only bullying in the face, the one who will never let go of her hands.

"Yes" she says, clutching a small bunch of white lilies with her fingers. Her cheeks are covered with a red sunset, her lips shine with a greasy glow in the sunlight, and in her eyes the ocean shimmers like tears of diamonds. She does not have an expensive dress and gold jewelry, but her brilliant smile adorns better than any diamonds and silk.

Idon looks at his already _wife_ and falls in love even more and more.

Hyuna with loose hair, without graceful curls or a chic hairstyle. She has a thin wreath of flowers from the top of their favorite field where they kissed for the first time. Her high neck is wrapped around his mother’s dirty yellow collar. Lace is everywhere: on the long hem and on the shoulders, on the waist and on the lush sleeves. In the ears there are cheap earrings made of plastic rubies, and a long chain of gilded silver with the same plastic ruby hangs from the neck. She doesn’t have makeup, the dress is large in several sizes, and her nails are all nibbled, but she looks just amazing.

The guy’s gaze slides over the sharp cheekbones, fluffy hair that rests on her shoulders in a heap, along the frayed frills of her dress, along her lush sleeves, from under which bandages streaked with blood are visible on thin wrists. Idon smiles so sadly. He is in pain while she pulls a bright smile.

He does not know when it all started. When she first tried to do this, when she first felt how a bright liquid flows from her. He does not know how she felt, he does not know how he feels. He just sees a tired smile pulled over his quivering lips, glass tears in her once vivid eyes, which seem to be about to break through the dam holding them, and shaking fingers that stretch rapidly blushing bandages onto the wrists to the stars in her gaze. And the quiet « _everything is in order_ ».

Idon never asked why she was doing this. He never asked why the bones on my wrists peep out more strongly through the dark, honeyed skin, he never asked why there are more tonals on the face than yesterday. Why the sleeves of her sweatshirts are getting longer and longer.

He tried, but he heard the same thing every time. _Everything is good_.

He hoped that even on this, the happiest day of his life, she would not do it. He will not do anything, he will not shed his blood. But a tiny red speck slowly appears on the lace sleeve of her dress.

"Yes" he whispers only with his lips and grabs his fingers around her wrist, exactly where the speck pulls her towards himself, digging into her lips with a greedy kiss. Licking greasy shine from her lips. Strawberry.

He holds back a strange heavy moan, because there are many eyes. They invited only the closest. Tearing a kiss with a loud smack, due to which a slight whistle is heard from the hall and his cheeks are covered with crimson fog. He clings to her fingers, pulling a thin strip of gold on his ring finger. After a couple of seconds, the exact same strip flaunts on his finger.

All documents were completed a few months before, and now there are only conventions: he quickly scribbles a piece of paper with a pen, leaving black stains of ink on the green vines next to the painting line. Hyuna’s hand clings and twisting her thin fingers with his own, turns around. From the front seats, the eyes of relatives shining from tears rushed at him: his mother with his father, his mother was already a wife with her father. Right behind them are sisters and brothers, followed by the closest friends and members of both groups.

Hyuna sobs quietly as Idon exponentially pulls their entwined fingers and kisses. Gently, putting all your emotions in, that right now they are tearing the chest, threatening to break out and spread out in a puddle along the red carpet under your feet. And this puddle would be one of the most delicate shades of pink mixed with the dirtiest black. What a passion with pain, love with hate.

 _Self-hatred_ that can not stop, try to hold back thin fingers with force squeezing the blade. And _love_ for these thin and superficial strips of dried blood on an exhausted body, for these whitish, swollen scars, on top of which there are new and new cuts and scars.

 _Damn passion_ for those burning eyes and a whining voice asking for more and more. Passion for sharp, covered with translucent skin, collarbones, cheekbones, fragile bones that I want to bite, pierce through and decorate with a scattering of lilac and yellow flowers. And the _pain_. The pain is because you cannot protect. That you can’t stop again. You can’t hold your mouth open with your hands and shove food into it to fill your stomach to capacity, to see cute cheeks on your cheekbones that will gather like a little lip when your plump lips stretch out in a beautiful smile.

His love is strong and terrible, her love is cruel and impatient, and their love is soft cupcakes with a bunch of custard on top, but with sharp nails inside.

They are handed a beautiful piece of paper in a beautiful envelope with vines and flowers along the edges and a curve with the inscription «08.30.1978».

***

"This morning, on the thirty-first of August, under strange circumstances, a famous singer and actress, Kim Hyuna, was found dead. According to police, the girl was found at ten fifty-three Korean time in her home. Kim Idon, the singer’s new husband, found the girl in the middle of the pool in a high chair. _Her head was thrown back, and her arms and legs hung helplessly down. She was in a luxurious dress and expensive jewelry, fastened with a belt to a chair._ Police have not yet confirmed the exact cause of death, but presumably this is suicide" the girl babbled, looking with cold eyes at the camera and clutching the microphone in her hand with her fingers. Behind, policemen and medical workers in white coats swarmed, there were detectives and fat men who were driven in to take the girl off the chair. Good deal. For such a report and promotion can be obtained "A correspondent from _Minatozaki Sana_ was with you from the scene".

Yoongi listened attentively to the quick words from the radio speakers. He was raised in the middle of the morning on his vacation, summoned, calling it an extraordinary affair.

 _The suicide of another star_ , his colleague Namjoon complained in a nasty voice, _some were starred and in the light of their spotlights decided to leave beautifully, and indeed, not a single speck of vomiting was beautiful._  
  
Yoongi said that it was not his business, that he was not involved in suicides, but then he heard the name. _Kim Hyuna._ His close friend, the closest.

Then he broke down without looking at his feet, threw on his coat, at the very end of the summer, most of all, picked up the car keys from the dresser in the hallway and ran down the stairs. He didn’t even screw up and break everything there, when he jumped over the steps to sooner find himself in the fresh, cold air, which sobered him up from yesterday evening better than a bucket of ice water. The name was beeping in her head, echoing somewhere in her chest. He stopped, looking dazedly at the dozens of cars parked in the parking lot. It would be easier and faster to win, but he is not in the form of running around the dirty and dusty streets of Seoul in slippers, collecting the puzzled looks of passers-by. He’s not in that category of people to run like that, in his pajamas, pushing ordinary people out on the street. He is not afraid of his reputation, he is not afraid of what people think.

Noticing the roof shining in the bright, summer sun with his brand new Chevrolet, Yoongi immediately rushed forward, making his way between the slender rows of cars. Yoongi doesn’t live in the worst district of Seoul, doesn’t drive in the worst car and doesn’t know the worst people, but this caustic liquid has been flowing in his veins for a long time, which surrounds him like a web and makes him buy the best things, show everyone how rich he is and what he can. Show who he is and where he stands.

 _Min Yoongi_ is one of the most famous detective stories in all of South Korea. He is known and respected, no one dares to discuss the genius of Mr. Min behind his back, no one dares even say a word against under his cold and gaze. But now he looked more like a miserable semblance of a wild animal cornered. His hair was sticking out in different directions, his sleepy and swollen face turned red, his whole body shook, forcing thin and long fingers to forcefully squeeze the leather steering wheel, which, look and crack under pressure; and his eyes with an ocean of emotions inside, and the main ones of which were despair and bewilderment, scoured the road, looking for the fastest way to the girlfriend's house. To the scene, the alarm kept repeating the brain.

 _Min Yoongi_ is a wealthy, thirty-seven-year-old adult man with a bunch of government connections and a huge apartment in the very center of Seoul. An adult man with an ideal reputation, more than forty untangled affairs and an expensive, brand new Chevrolet. An adult man with cold discernment and genius, coupled with a crazy trick that has never failed him. An adult man who cut all debates and problems in the bud had only a few weaknesses: the piano, friends, and alcohol. An adult man who cried only once in his life — _when, while studying in Seoul, at the time of his youth, he found out that at home in Daegu his mother burned down in their house and only an old, brown piano was saved_. Now his still sleepy eyes were slowly covered with a veil of tears.

A _brown piano_ is all that remains of his mother. The piano she played on Fridays when the whole family gathered for a big family dinner. The piano, on which she taught him to play as a child. Immediately after the funeral, he took this piano to his small rented apartment in Seoul. His mistress was an immigrant from France, a woman in her sixties who, for a small amount over rent, was ready to let him leave the piano. And Yoongi worked, worked in day and night shifts, just to do everything to stay in this modest and tiny apartment for as long as possible. And now this old brown piano stands in his large apartment in the very center of Seoul, and Yoongi plays it every Friday night, plays the very melody that his mother once played every Friday night.

As soon as his car stopped in front of the patterned fence of the mansion, Yoongi jumped out of it, loudly slamming the door and pulling out his ID at the step. He quickly slipped under the red ribbon raised for him by the police and went up to Namjoon.

"Oh god, man," he croaked, releasing a cigarette from his mouth as Min's heavy hand fell on his shoulder. Although he was ten centimeters lower, he had more than enough strength in him, and he himself was stronger and wider, despite his fragile physique "You look like the train moved you".

"What do the investigators say?" cut Yoongi, twisting his head and looking for doctors. But his gaze came across the girl’s body. She has not yet been put on a stretcher, still not hidden in an ambulance. This is how they left a pale, thin body on the side of the pool, left to review all the dozens of correspondents who were marking here, behind the red line.

"What the what" Namjoon chuckled, also continuing to calmly drag on his cigarette "Found a cool clue to kill. The girl has a huge seam under the dress on her chest. The neat thing is as if the professional did".

Yoongi looks back again, while Joon shoves a cigarette and a lighter into his hands, looking at him unequivocally with a frown, saying with his eyes that, they say, you need it, calm down. He looks back at the body, and while his eyes are covered with smoke already released by him, he peers into the body of his girlfriend. Indeed, the bright, red dress on her chest is open and if you look closely, you can see a neat seam running across the entire chest, from the collarbone to the abdomen.

"Just her newly-married husband says that they returned home together and after the wedding night went to bed together," Joon continued, already nodding somewhere to the side where Idon was standing. He was trembling all over, his face, even from here it was visible, was all red and swollen, there was a blanket resting on his shoulders that everyone was foiling, so silver, underneath was a bright raspberry sweater and trousers of a nasty, bright acid color. Now he definitely does not distinguish anything, does not distinguish raspberry from acid, does not distinguish the bright, red lipstick on the lips of his wife, Hyuna, does not distinguish bright colors, expressed directly near the pool sidewalkers, against the wall of the house. Now he sees only black and white "He says that he woke up in the morning, and there was nobody around, and everything around was black and white".

Yoongi knew. He knew that they were soulmates for a long time. Probably when Hyuna came to him and told everything. About their first kiss, about their first meeting. It was a few years ago, but before my eyes everything played like yesterday. He remembers the timid knock on the door on Saturday evening, remembers Hyuna's mischievous and anxious look at the moment when he opened the door. She remembers her squeaky voice, that with a stutter he whispered to him all this, as if afraid that someone might hear them. For two, they had flowers on their hips: such slightly noticeable stains, as if bruised, on their hips, with springs in the very core and white stripes of stems. Real flowers. And Yoongi did not know what he had for two with his half. He had a huge scar right on his chest, right above his heart, cutting his heart in half with a crooked line. He thought it was from birth, but somehow Joon joked that _it was his half, that she would be an exact creature, would break his heart_. And now he did not let this thought out of his head.

But time passed, and with each increase he became more and more spitting on this soul mate. Yes, damn it, a barely noticeable scar that was already a simple, curved whitish strip on his chest did not bother him. Yes, to hell with it, he does not need love, he needs only money, only a career. He has no time for this soul, no time for relationships.

"He called at eleven, said that some girl had got into his yard and was now in the pool. And that she seems unconscious" Namjoon continued to speak, while Min repeatedly released thick clouds of smoke into the sky, looking at Idon, who was shaking and shaking, resting his face on his knees "Only when the police arrived, he left the house, and we realized that this was not some kind of stupid fan who made her way into his yard. This moron couldn't even recognize his own wife".

Yoongi took a deep breath. Everything inside was mixed up, forming a strange mess in my head. His chest tightened, and there was nowhere to breathe, as if an invisible hand was squeezing his throat.

He remembers how he sat in the church yesterday, he remembers how Hyuna squealed embarrassedly « _Yes_ » and how sparks flew between them and Idon when the guy pulled her to him, glaring at her lips. He remembers how happy she was, remembers her smile too well. It seemed like it was just a damn delirious dream, I just wanted Yoongi to shake him on the shoulder and, looking up, would stare at a full plate of salad and rice, and somewhere behind could hear Hyuna's funny laugh. But instead, he hears the rustling of tapes, clicks of cameras, chattering voices and incomprehensible phrases heard from the walkie-talkies.

"Damn it, he didn't even notice that everything was black and white" Kim didn't let up. Yoongi nodded to him, throwing a cigarette butt on the ground and without even thinking, trampling it with a slipper. Releasing the last cloud of smoke in the cool air and putting his hands in the pockets of his coat, Min moved slowly toward Idon.

He was still trembling, his forehead resting on his knees, clasped hands, not paying attention to anything. Even when Min crouched next to him, he did not budge. Although I definitely felt it.

"It's hard to lose loved ones," Yoongi began quietly. It was difficult to choose words, lose one mother, and the love of one’s life, without which everything around it loses its color, is completely different. Maybe Min can still see the world bright, but the sensations from this are not the best, she was akin to him as a soulmate. She was the one who kept their entire crazy family together, who supported Yoongi to the last, who believed in him even when it seemed that this was the end. After her death, much has changed. He no longer communicates with his father or brothers, they are not going to big family dinners on holidays, even Yoongi celebrates Christmas and birthdays either alone in his apartment or at work. The place that he previously considered a home, even after restoration, will never be again "I understand".

"You don’t understand anything" snapped the guy, raising his head. Now Yoongi could take a close look at everything that was happening to him. And this is the worst picture. His face was all swollen and reddened, his lips were bitten to almost a bloody mess, a thin drop of blood dripped down his chin, his eyes were reddened and there was still moisture in them, tears still flowed down his cheeks. But the worst thing about it all was his look: so lost, so scared. The pupils slowly filled with gray, slowly the brown iris became dark gray. And at the bottom of these lost eyes, Yoongi clearly saw a heart smashed to smithereens that you won’t even collect, that you won’t glue it together like a vase, because there are too many fragments. Yes, _he does not understand anything._

"Do you know what happened?" He asks his only question. Always cold and aloof, but now in his voice there is only regret, if I may call it that. He decided a lot of things in his life, there were things worse, but now everything was different. Because he never investigated the murders of his friends. Yes, kill someone at least the same Namjoon, everything would be wrong, everything would be as usual.

"I thought you should tell me that" the guy wheezes. He was just about twenty-one, he was just debuting in a group, he was just getting married. But now, under the eyes, blue bags were visible, and on the forehead were wreaths and small, barely noticeable wrinkles.

"For starters, I have to find out everything you know".

Min takes a notebook and pen from his coat — _an old habit of keeping them everywhere with him_ — and opens them in a clean u-turn, signing them with Hyuna's affair. Damn him, what a mystery this is, and now he will drop them all to guess this one.

And Idon says, again, for the tenth, if not the hundredth, time all that he told others. Yoongi could just ask others for evidence, he could just read the report, but it’s more reliable. Idon definitely trusts him more than a dozen other policemen who are here.

" _Suga,_ " Yoongi scolds. Only his closest friends call him that. Even Namjoon does not call him that "Are you investigating her death? Do you know who did this?".

"Of course".

"You promise?" he looks like a little kid. Although it is. Yoongi takes his eyes off the notebook and looks at Idon, his eyes sparkle with tears, his mouth is slightly open and his lower lip quivers.

" _I promise_ " he whispers.

Although Yoongi saw this guy about fifteen times, if not less, and then, counting those times when he stopped on some music channel to lean back on the couch and relax in an embrace with a bottle of whiskey or soju, and got on performances of his small group. Although he knew him no better than he knew anyone here, he heard a lot about him. But hearing and seeing are two different things. But Yoongi will do everything to track down this bastard who did this. Not for Idon, but for myself.

***

Jungkook groans softly, squinting his eyes to the stars and sparks. But not from pleasure, but rather from disgust.

Taehyung descends lower, covering his chin, neck with light kisses, briefly stops on an Adam's apple to bite, and descends further onto his collarbone. There is already where to play. He absorbs honey skin in his mouth, nibbling and reigning over his teeth, leaving bruises and marks on his skin. Jungkook mumbles, trying to throw a heavy body off of himself, but the guy above him just grabs his thin wrists, turning them behind his head and squeezing him tightly.

Jungkook is not small. He will be fifteen tomorrow, but he has twenty forces in him, but the guy above him is much older and stronger. Taehyung is thirty-one, and it is twice or more taller.

Jungkook wriggles, trying to bend as much as possible, but underneath is a hard sofa, and several pillows in which his head is buried. Taehyung wraps his arms around both his wrists with one hand, moving the other on his stomach, while he tortures his skin with his lips, leaving the new ones on the old marks that they have not yet managed to get off.

It's not the first time. The devil knows in which. Taehyung seems to know that they will not catch him, that he will not be anything. And Jungkook is generally to blame, so hyung himself says.

Jungkook himself wanted, he asked. And Taehyung set his price.

While the guy’s second hand slowly undoes the buttons on Kook’s shirt, getting confused and trying to tear them apart altogether, his lips go down lower, biting hard on the shoulder, so that Jungkook hisses softly, opening his eyes and looking perplexedly at a few red drops on the prominent white teeth marks. on yellowed skin. The trace immediately fills with blood and now it is a simple red spot.

"Calm down, baby," Taehyung whispers in a mischievous voice, licking her bite with her rough tongue, the iron clove in his tongue unpleasantly cools the skin "Yesterday, everything was fine, why are you so uptight today".

Finally, he succeeds in undoing all the buttons on this damn shirt and he doesn’t fling open it with cold, calloused fingers, outlining Jungkook's hot stomach, he walks long, graceful fingers along his bulging ribs, as if playing the piano and squeezes them hard. The bruises will definitely stay. Jungkook is no stranger.

"Didn’t like it?" Taehyung grins with his signature grin. So cunning and insidious, that looks more like a wild grin. Jungkook barely gaze these eyes dark, almost black, withstand. Again, she closes her eyes and pushes her lips into a thin strip. Taehyung grunts, continuing to play the pianist.

Jungkook only wants it to end faster. He promises himself that he will definitely tell Hoseok later. Well, as promised. It’s rather calming, because he knows that he still can’t tell anything.

Jungkook doesn't remember when they did this for the first time. When he was barely eleven? Taehyung then also grinned slyly, squatted down in front of him and said that he was old enough to play adult games. Jungkook was glad, because yes, he is already an adult. The most adult. Taehyung told this not to tell anyone, because adults do not tell anyone about their games. Like, not culturally. " _But you are a cultured boy, Jungkook?_ ".

_What a dumb excuse._

Jungkook didn't remember when they did this for the first time, but each following seemed to be the first.

Taehyung, biting his earlobe, ran his fingers over the scar on his chest, pressing down.

" _You see, Jungkookie_ " he whispered, burning his ear with a hot breath. Running her fingers over and over the red trail on her chest, directly above the heart. On a curved red strip above the heart, as if with a fresh scar from the operation, only without seams. It’s as if Jungkook had a heart cut out " _You will bring only troubles to your soul mate. He will hate you_ ".

Taehyung always said this as if mocking. As if he had a task in his notes every time to remind Jungkook about it. The fact that his heart is cut in half by a huge scar.

Taehyung didn’t have this, Jungkook could say that with confidence. He didn’t have a hint of a scar on his strong chest, neither healed wounds nor fresh ones. Nothing. But there were birthmarks all over the back. In the form of lashes. So strange. Jungkook used to think that they were like a tiger, and when he became older he learned from magazines that blows from a lash look like that.

Taehyung was already grabbing at the buckle of Kook’s belt with his fingers, like a knock on the door.

"Taehyung" was heard muffled from the outside. It was Hwasa "Open, dirty freak".

Taehyung pulled away from Jungkook’s body, and he was glad to push him away and press his whole body into the sofa upholstery. Having issued some inarticulate roar, Taehyun got up from the couch, approaching the door and turning the key sticking out in the door connector several times. He was not wearing a T-shirt or shirt, and Jungkook only managed to cover the blossoming buds on his body with a pillow when a girl flew into the room.

"I don’t even want to know what you are doing here" she hissed, frowning and looking askance at Taehyung, who, grinning, leaned on the door.

 _Hwasa_. Tall and beautiful, with wide hips and large breasts. Taehyung likes her, only she constantly sews him, and she treats Jungkook as a baby. Although he has long understood that he is too dirty for this. She is kind and cheerful, and she also has fluffy and soft hair, already lightened a bunch of times and forever painted red lips. Jungkook knows nothing more, except that she and Taehyung seem to be playing « _whoever will kill whom faster_ ».

"Did you want something?" said Taehyung, yawning lingeringly, and wanting to quickly return to his beloved and _already begun_ work.

"Hoseok needs help there" Hwasa nods, and after rolling Kim's rolled eyes, she walked over to Kook, crouching beside him.

"You are fine?"

 _Of course_. _As good as it gets_. Jungkook knows that she will not directly ask, and she knows that Jungkook will not answer directly. She is the only one who, perhaps, knows about their affair with Taehyung, the only one who at least somehow tries to support Kook after all this. At least you won’t fly in, she jokes when he slips out of the bedroom with barely sparkling eyes, holding out clean towels. He and Taehyung had been cursing about this a hundred times, and then Hwasa pulled Kook to her and hugged him, stroking his head, and saying that he was just a dumb fool. Although Jungkook was not five long ago, he was glad to hug, to hug and cry, which was terrible all around.

She is with him as with a child, he is with her as with her _mother_.

"It's all right" Jungkook nodded, knowing that Taehyung was about to return. And when irritated, loud footsteps were heard outside the door, Hwasa gently pulled the guy to her, kissing his wet forehead and, dipping fingers into his dark hair, ruffling them.

Maybe Taehyung was not the most terrible person in the whole world, but he was a complete freak.

***

" _Everything will be fine, I promise_ " the guy whispers in a burning manner in the dark, clutching the girl’s thin birders with his hands " _I have time_ ".

His thrilling whisper now seems louder than any scream. Jennie swallows nervously, fingers clutching a shirt across her chest. They’re inside some kind of closet, it’s crowded and dark, and the only vertical surface is a small chest of drawers, or the table on which she is sitting right now, wrapping her legs around the guy’s torso. Probably, if it were not for the veil of alcohol that she had drunk at the party, and that her mind had clouded her, then this would not have happened now. There would be no tightly clasped hands on her legs and there would not be heavy, agitated breathing directly above her ear.

" _Okay_ ," she whispers, pulling the guy by the collar and glaring at his lips " _Go_ ".

Now she no longer remembers the name of that guy, no longer remembers the streets and apartments where this happened. She doesn’t remember the name of her friend that she offered to play in a bottle, and then she hinted unequivocally that there is a small storage room, forward along the corridor and to the right, between the wardrobe and the bathroom.

Then she agreed, after pitying tens of hundreds of thousands of times. _Fool_.

Now she is twenty-nine, and in front of her, at the table, picking a fork in a piece of lemon pie, sits her fourteen-year-old daughter _Rosè_.

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is like a pilot episode of the series. It is necessary to shove as much as possible into it, but not to overload it. Make it so that interest everyone you can and be interested in yourself.
> 
> A X T U N Gift  
> I want to explain for Hyuna. I wanted to give this role to Sulli or, for example, Goo Hara, but then I thought that the hell would be too harsh to appeal to their fans, so Hyuna, I love you so much, I'm sorry. TT TT TT
> 
> In the first chapter it was necessary to invest a lot in order to interest, so I reveal several characters at once - they are all the main characters. This is not all, but we will learn more about others until I decided to grab only these.
> 
> ***  
> Hell, I just want to tell the storyline with all these repetitions and say who actually killed Hyuna, what happens next and how they will all be connected.
> 
> P. S. In fact, I'm from Russia and this fanfiction is in Russian language (of my authorship) and I decided to translate it into English, yes.
> 
> I tried to translate as best as possible (not without the help of Google translator, of course), and I hope that you can understand all the prehistory and beauty of my work. I hope, duh.
> 
> If you wanna you can to help me to do this fanfic is better and some work on him to do to he be is better on English language.
> 
> P. S. S. Happy New Year~


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